


Here, Have Some More Loop-de-loops

by californianNostalgia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Friendship, Gen, Some angst, Time Loop AU, Youtube star au, lots of win, the major character death isn't permanent, traitor team galra au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2018-12-14 05:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11776461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/californianNostalgia/pseuds/californianNostalgia
Summary: When Naxzela exploded during the battle against the Empire, Team Voltron died, as all mortals must. Of course, then they woke up in the past and realized the universe needed saving. Again.In other words: a patchwork study of what happens when five people are stuck in a seemingly endless time loop, featuring boredom, pranks, random heroisms, existential angst, hilarity, and that weird stuff called "bonding".Chapter 4: Keith accidentally streamed a Voltron space battle on YouTube. Humans on Earth react appropriately.





	1. Painting Nails, Laser Guns, and YouTube

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [And We're Back Here Again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7859347) by [goodnessanake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodnessanake/pseuds/goodnessanake). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I use the 'she' pronoun for Pidge. (The first chapter is terrible crack. Following chapters are in better quality. You can skip the crack if you want.)
> 
> Edit: I made some changes to the loop numbers.

Loop 36  
  
  
“So does anyone know what loop we’re on?” Lance asked, filing Pidge’s nails down to a less claw-like shape while she tapped away on her laptop with her other hand.  
  
“Thirty-something, I think,” Keith said from his position draped over the Altean couch. “But who’s counting.”  
  
“Man, that’s a lot of loops.” Lance held up Pidge’s hand to the light and squinted, trying to figure out if the nail he'd been working on looked lopsided or not. “I wonder how long this is gonna go on.”  
  
Keith shrugged. Pidge snatched her hand out of Lance’s and bonked him on the head. “Stop trying to achieve perfection with my nails!”

 

* * *

 

Loop 25: YOUTUBE edition  
  
  
[Popular YouTube channel **[Team Voltron]** uploaded a new video titled **< The Blue One: An Attempt at a Documentary>**.]  
  
“Hi, guys!” A lanky blue-eyed boy waved at the camera from what appeared to be some sci-fi set of a living room. “This is Lance from Team Voltron, reporting to you from the Castle of Lions. Before we begin, I’m gonna answer some questions from the comments on the previous video. Yes Mom, I’m really alive. I’m just in a spaceship several gazillion lightyears away from our galaxy and fighting a war on behalf of the entire universe, so you’ll have to understand if I can’t drop by for Christmas. I know, it sucks, I miss you too. And no, Max, you are not allowed to sell my Star Trek models to your friend. I’m _declared_ dead, not actually dead. And even if I were actually dead—which I'm not—I would still be miffed that you would think to sell my models. They're limited edition, dammit. Cherish them.”  
  
He cleared his throat. “Anyway. To our wonderful viewers, thanks for watching as always. If you like this video, click the link below to subscribe and join us for more space craziness every week.”  
  
He clapped his hands together. “Now, today we’ll be observing the Pidge in her natural habitat during that time of the month when she starts cursing her vagina with everything she has. Excited? So was I when I was starting out!” His expression dropped into that of a man who had seen too many horrors. “Oh, how I was wrong.  
  
“This video was filmed across the span of a week, and let me tell you, it was a week of pure, unadulterated fear and chaos. With the job being as dangerous as it was, I enlisted the help of Hunk, Keith, and Shiro. We barely made it out alive. I hope you guys appreciate how much we risked for this. Remember, don’t try this at home!”  
  
The screen changed to show the letters “ **WARNING: Profanities, Hopefully-Empty Death Threats, Mild Displays of Violence, Extreme Displays of Violence, etc.** ”  
  
The words disappeared, followed by more blocky letters, this time capitalized.  
  
**STAGE 1: PANIC**  


 

* * *

 

Loop 136

  
“Remember how back in loop thirty-something we thought we’d been in this loop-de-loop thing for a pretty long time?” Lance asked out of the blue while painting Keith’s pinky a glossy jet-black.  
  
“Nope,” said Pidge without looking up from her laptop.  
  
“I wonder how old we are,” Lance said. “Like, mentally.”  
  
“No idea,” Keith said, peering down at Lance’s work. After studying it with a critical eye, he asked, “Can you do the other hand too?” 

 

* * *

 

Loop 25: YOUTUBE edition

  
**STAGE 4: ANGER**

“What are you doing?” Pidge snapped, peering at the camera in suspicion.  
  
“We’re filming you,” Keith said in a _duh_ sort of voice, off-screen.  
  
Her brows pinched together. “Why?” she asked.  
  
“It’s for a YouTube video,” Hunk supplied helpfully.  
  
“But what’s it for?” she demanded.  
  
“A documentary,” Lance said. “On you.”  
  
She gave them a look. “You’re making one of me on my period, aren’t you.”  
  
“Uh—“  
  
“Oh, I feel so _flattered_. Did you think my suffering was funny enough to be YouTube-worthy?”  
  
“We didn’t mean it like that—“ Hunk tried to assure her.  
  
"Really? Sure the idea wasn’t ‘let’s show Pidge rolling around on the floor in pain, _that_ should be fun to watch’?”  
  
“Back away,” Keith hissed at the other two boys. “Slowly.”  
  
“Do you think I _chose_ to have a stupid vagina? No!”  
  
In the corner of the screen, Shiro was seen walking into the room. “Hey, guys. What’s going—“ He froze at the sight of Pidge.  
  
“Does you being lucky enough not to possess one give you the right to laugh at my plight? NO!”  
  
“Run!” Keith yelled.

 

* * *

 

Loop 19: LASER GUNS

  
“So what's the plan? We charge in, go  _pow pow pow,_  and free the prisoners?” Lance grinned.  
  
“No,” Keith said. “No. I refuse to accept that those were meant to be laser guns.”  
  
“Yeah, Lance,” said Hunk. “I think you mean: _Pwao. Pwao. Pwao._ ” He took a moment to pretend he was loading a giant cannon, then released one last, epic “ _Pwao_.”  
  
“That sounded like fireworks,” Lance scoffed.  
  
“Technically they’re more like _pchoo pchoo pchoo,_ " Pidge cut in, making little finger guns.  
  
“No, they're more like _blah-blah-blam_ ,” Shiro said, getting down on his knees to shoot at invisible targets.  
  
“ _What?”_  said Keith.  
  
“No way,” said Pidge.  
  
“You’re crazy,” said Lance.  
  
“Na, _wrong_ ,” said Hunk.  
  
“Okay, enough with the bad sound effects!” Keith glared at Shiro as if to say _This is your line, why aren’t you saying it?_  
  
Shiro smiled back. There was a second of solemn silence.  
  
“And anyways, you’re all wrong. They go like _peo peo peo_.”  
  
“What?” said Lance.  
  
“No way,” said Shiro.  
  
“You’re crazy,” said Hunk.  
  
“ _Wrong_ ,” said Pidge.  
  
Allura sent up a silent prayer to the Altean gods of old in the hope that they would grant her patience.

 

* * *

 

Loop 25: YOUTUBE edition  
  
  
**STAGE 6: THE CONJURING**

“This is Lance,” a voice whispered, sounding out of breath. “I’m hiding in the vents. We lost Keith first, and then Hunk. I don’t know what happened to Shiro. I would like to take this chance to say that this was a really bad idea, I regret everything, fighting Galran super-monsters wasn’t as scary as this, it feels like I’m in a horror movie—“  
  
A _thump_ echoed through the dark.  
  
“No.” Lance sounded terrified. “Nonononono how did she _find_ me—“  
  
“You forget.” A ghostly voice drifted closer. “I’ve hunted worse things than you in these vents, Lance.”  
  
Lance screamed.  
  
[BLACKOUT]  
  
**STAGE 7: AFTER THE STORM**  
  
The camera focused on Pidge from afar and slowly zoomed in. She was typing something on her laptop, fully absorbed.  
  
“So . . . Pidge,” Lance carefully called out to her. “You know how we’ve been filming you on your period for about a week now?”  
  
“Yeah?” she replied, not looking up.  
  
“Can we . . . put it up on YouTube?”  
  
“Sure,” she said.  
  
Silence.  
  
“Seriously?” Keith’s voice.  
  
“For real?” Lance's voice.  
  
“Yeah,” Pidge said. “I don’t mind.”  
  
More silence.  
  
[BLACKOUT]  
  
Lance reappeared on the screen, face solemn. “Once again, a reminder: DON’T try this at home. Even though I’m pretty sure you guys won’t have access to neither giant ten-thousand-year-old space castle nor an actual Pidge, just, don’t. Don’t even think about it. That’s why YouTube exists, so people stupider than you can do these stupid things and record the results for your leisurely perusal." He grinned. "By the way, would you guys be interested in a documentary about Keith's various stages of emo-ness?"

" _Lance._ "

Lance waved a hand. "Joking, joking."  _Comment_ , he mouthed at the camera.

" _LANCE_."

"See you next time, lovely viewers!"

[VIDEO END]  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing took heavy inspiration from its mother fic, which I've credited above. I extracted permission to upload this a long time ago, but due to my laziness it is only now that I'm actually uploadng something.
> 
> The YOUTUBE-verse part is basically my headcanon for goodnessake's original YOUTUBE-verse. Other headcanons include Keith doing martial arts vids, Hunk doing cooking-with-weird-alien-ingredients-to-make-something-edible vids, and Shiro doing advice vids. Shiro's vids are especially popular.
> 
> Suggestions are welcome! Leave them in the comments or [my tumblr account](http://californiannostalgia.tumblr.com).


	2. Meanwhile on Earth (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exceptionally cliché attempt at imagining what kinds of shenanigans might have occurred had Team Voltron had the sense and insight to start up a YouTube channel. 
> 
> I mean, they live in a fucking space castle. Might as well do something with it. What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter is set in Alternate Universe #25.
> 
> Edit: I made some changes to the loop numbers.

Loop 25: YOUTUBE edition

  
“That should do it,” Pidge said, handing Keith’s helmet back. “When you press the button, the live-stream feed should switch up to a view from your helmet, complete with access to night mode and comm links.”  
  
“Nice. Thanks.”  
  
“No prob.”  
  
“Why bother with night mode?” Lance asked, sitting cross-legged in the corner of the training deck.  
  
“Because I’m a perfectionist,” said Pidge in a _duh_ sort of tone.  
  
Keith put the helmet on and felt up the side of his visor, searching for the button. “Is this the one?” he asked, trying the first one he found.  
  
Lance burst out laughing.  
  
“No,” Pidge spoke very slowly, taking care to enunciate every syllable. “That’s your brightness button. You just adjusted the brightness of the video.”  
  
“It was an innocent mistake,” Keith grumbled, ignoring Lance’s giggles. He slid his thumb lower down the helmet and tried another button. “How about now?”  
  
Lance looked like he was about to keel over from lack of breath, but he managed to form coherent sentences. “Yeah, you”— _snort, snicker_ —“you’ve got it. You go, man. Well done.”  
  
Keith scowled and resisted the urge to comment on Lance’s apparent preference in cooked meat. Instead he let his bayard materialize into his hand and spun his wrist reflexively in a quick number 8—a readying motion before a fight. “Whatever.”

 

* * *

 

 **bigdamnmilkshakes** : this is awesome  
  
**KlanceIsReal** : keith just finished trashing a sparring bot and is complaining about boredom  
  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : and it was one hell of a fight  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : like damn  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : dat boy can swing a sword  
  
**emicateXanthic** : Stop torturing me.  
**emicateXanthic** : I am out of data. I can’t watch the stream yet.  
**emicateXanthic** : This bus is going as fast as it can in the direction of my wifi-abundant room.  
**emicateXanthic** : If you could restrain yourself from reminding me of what I’m missing, that would be great.  
  
**KlanceIsReal** : omg keith’s asking lance if he wants to spar  
**KlanceIsReal** : omg lance said yes  
**KlanceIsReal** : OMG THEYRE SPARRING  
  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : and can i just say lance has never looked sexier with a laser gun  
  
**emicateXanthic** : GHTRGHUGGJGHRHGR  
  
**medusa’s_snake** : i can picture your face and it is very entertaining  
  
**emicateXanthic** : You have no idea how much I want to be able to teleport right now.  
  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : ahahahahahahahh  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : ah  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : um  
  
**KlanceIsReal** : what the  
  
**medusa’s_snake** : uh  
**medusa’s_snake** : yeah  
**medusa’s_snake** : you think this siren thing’s part of the script?  
  
**emicateXanthic** : ?  
  
**KlanceIsReal** : no, look they’re wrapping up the stream  
  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : aww and it was just getting good  
  
**KlanceIsReal** : no wait  
**KlanceIsReal** : i think  
**KlanceIsReal** : oH KEITH  
  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : ahahAHAHAHA I CANT BELIEVE THIS  
  
**medusa’s_snake** : oh my god kEIth  
  
**emicateXanthic** : Why? Whats going on?  
  
**medusa’s_snake** : he thinks he’s turned off the stream  
**medusa’s_snake** : he hasn’t  
  
**KlanceIsReal** : he probably pressed the wrong button  
  
**medusa’s_snake** : how can he not realize that tho?  
  
**KlanceIsReal** : he’s keith  
**KlanceIsReal** : don’t underestimate his dorkyness  
  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : preach, brotha  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : oh  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : oh what the what now  
  
**KlanceIsReal** : whoa  
  
**emicateXanthic** : ??  
  
**medusa’s_snake** : okay that is just  
**medusa’s_snake** : is this real  
  
**KlanceIsReal** : i dunno this looks like a lot of cgi for a lowly youtube stream  
  
**emicateXanthic** : What is it? What’s happening?  
  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : you could sell this shit  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : this looks better than that marvel movie with the rainbow colored aliens and that dancing tree baby  
  
**medusa’s_snake** : are you talking about guardians of the galaxy  
  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : yes that weird thing  
  
**medusa’s_snake** : HOW DARE YOU  
  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : w/e man  
  
**emicateXanthic** : TELL ME WHAT'S HAPPENING I WANT TO KNOW  
  
**medusa’s_snake** : YOU SAW WHAT HAPPENED  
  
**emicateXanthic** : NO NOT YOU  
  
**KlanceIsReal** : uh  
**KlanceIsReal** : they just  
**KlanceIsReal** : got into giant dog-shaped? battleships  
  
**medusa’s_snake** : BUT SHE INSULTED THE GUARDIANS OF OUR GALAXY  
  
**KlanceIsReal** : and launched into space  
  
**emicateXanthic** : WHAT  
  
**KlanceIsReal** : now theyre battling these purple fighter things  
  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : by the looks of things them guardians just got replaced by some new guardians of the galaxy  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : i cannot believe i just typed that with a straight face  
  
**KlanceIsReal** : and these humongous other battleships  
**KlanceIsReal** : anD WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT  
  
**medusa’s_snake** : is this for real  
  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : okay someone tell me is this a dream  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : are we in dreamland  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : don’t worry about sparing my feelings i can take it  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : tell me the truth go on  
  
**medusa’s_snake** : this feels a bit too realistic to be a dream  
  
**KlanceIsReal** : so is anyone recording this or  
**KlanceIsReal** : ah fuck it i’ll do it  
  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : oh wtf  
  
**medusa’s_snake** : wtf  
  
**KlanceIsReal** : wtf  
**KlanceIsReal** : wtf wtf wtf  
  
**emicateXanthic** : Getting off at my stop now. I’m gonna sprint for it.  
**emicateXanthic** : This had better not be a joke.  
  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : trust us  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : it’s not

 

* * *

 

“Hi, Mom!” Alex (a.k.a. emicateXanthic) yelled, barreling through the front door.  
  
“Hi to you too,” her mother said, not bothering to take her eyes off of the TV screen, which showed an unfairly attractive Orlando Bloom dressed as a blonde, stoic elf prince. “What’s chasing you, a grizzly?”  
  
“There’s this live-stream I can’t miss, it’s really important,” she explained, racing past the admittedly alluring image of Orlando Bloom and up the stairs. The moment she crossed into her room, she threw her backpack off without checking where it would land and grabbed her laptop from its previous position on the corner of the shelves.  
  
Her phone pinged with yet another [new message] notification, showing her that she had two hundred and twenty-three unread messages from a chat group christened **We’re Busy Doing Space Shit**. She ignored it (her friends would understand her distraction) and tapped her fingernails against her leg in barely contained impatience.  
  
When she finally had the stream open, she had to double-check to make sure she wasn’t on the wrong address.  
  
Her friends had been dead serious. This was a full-blown space battle, complete with laser cannons, flying animal ships, and the unfathomable depth of deep space laid out in the background. On a YouTube live-stream.  
  
What the flippin’ hell. She wanted a bigger screen.  
  
The video was coming straight from what had to be Keith’s point of view. A pulsing red glow permeated the control room he was sitting in. His hands—were they _armored_?—moved the joysticks in swift, decisive movements, making the cockpit spin and tumble with dizzying finesse. Sounds of heavy futuristic artillery assaulted her earpods. She could hear the metallic shriek when he sliced through enemy ships.  
  
“Hunk, on your six!” Keith yelled, taking his battleship on a sharp hairpin turn to pour _literal fire_ at a purple mothership.  
  
“Thanks, Keith!” Hunk’s voice came through what had to be the comms. A huge yellow dog/lion/ _thing_ whipped past Keith’s line of sight, crunching dark purple fighters by _slamming into them_.  
  
“We’re nearly done here,” Keith said, weaving through the wreckages with obvious ease. “How’s it going, Shiro?”  
  
Alex made a rather undignified noise at her computer when the cockpit tilted upwards, showing some sort of giant purple megamonster that only belonged in third-rate sci-fi flicks and kindergarten fantasies. Bright streaks of blue, green, and purple twisted about the gargantuan form, attacking the monster with great prejudice. Lance was _whooping_ on the comms.  
  
What the flying fuck.  
  
“It’s going manageably,” was Shiro’s reply. “Make sure you tidy up before joining us. Let’s do this nice and clean.”  
  
“Copy that.”  
  
“Shiro, duck!” Pidge yelled. The next instant, thick, writhing vines erupted from the megamonster’s arm and wrapped around it like tree roots.  
  
What the ever-loving actual fuck.  
  
She couldn’t possibly bring her brain to reconcile the Keith she knew from YouTube and the Keith on the monitor right now, who piloted a battleship like he’d been born for it. She couldn’t do it for any one of Team Voltron. That was just asking too much from her poor mushy thinking apparatus.  
  
She didn’t know what she was watching either—if it was heavy CGI or a leaked film short or a promotion stunt or what—but she didn’t really care at the moment. She only knew that this was some top-tier awesomeness and that she wanted to watch the rest of it. That was all she asked of the universe, that she be allowed to enjoy this marvel in peace. That was all that mattered.  
  
But first. It wouldn’t do to revel in this kind of eye candy and not inform the world of such a blessing.  
  
So as Keith continued to raze a war path through the enemy fleet, she pulled up tumblr and twitter and every social media she had on her phone. On each account, she posted screenshots with several choice swear words mixed into the description for emphasis and included the link to the stream. Then she dialed up someone who would very much want to see this sort of spectacle as soon as he humanly could.  
  
“Hey, Alex. What’s up?”  
  
“Hi, Kevin. I’m gonna send you a link to a live-stream. Check it out.”  
  
“A live-stream? What for?”  
  
“You’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

“Damn,” he muttered, watching the space battle unfold on the screen. There were over ten thousand people currently watching and the number was steadily climbing. The comment section was going crazy. It was impossible to read one individual message before it disappeared from the screen, replaced by newer ones.  
  
It seemed the viewers were all in agreement. Whatever this was, this looked scarily legit. Kevin couldn’t argue.  
  
The giant space robots and laser fights suddenly reminded him of a certain someone that might have a bit more insight into this crazy situation. He dialed her up immediately.  
  
“Hey, Molly,” he said into the phone, “what school did you say you went to? Galaxy Force or something?”  
  
“Hi to you too, dear cousin. Galaxy _Garrison_ , not Galaxy Force. What the fuck, Kev. Why are you calling me during the wee hours of my free time to ask stupid questions?”  
  
“You got an Internet connection?”  
  
“Do I look like a cavewoman?”  
  
“I’m gonna send you a link for a live-stream on YouTube. You’re gonna check it out.”  
  
“Why should I do that? I’m busy enough without wasting hours on How To Make Plastic Ice Cream and shit.”  
  
“Because I think some idiot is accidentally streaming a legit space battle on YouTube and no secret agency has yet to shut it down. You gotta see.”  
  
“Bullshit,” she scoffed. “Is this another one of your CGI projects?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“You know you’re spouting fantasy.”  
  
“I’m sending you screenshots.” He pulled up a separate window on his browser and tapped away one-handedly. “Check your email.”  
  
He could hear her grumbling as she complied.  
  
The grumbling abruptly cut off. He heard her suck in a breath.  
  
“You know you’re interested,” he coaxed.  
  
“No, I’m not.” Her voice was strained.  
  
“I’m sending you the link.”  
  
“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

She’d thought it might be some freelancer’s lifelong sci-fi film project brought to life via a live-stream stunt. The screenshots didn’t do it justice. It was better than the graphics on a Hollywood space flick. The constellations she glimpsed through the laser blasts and explosions were nothing like the ones she was familiar with.  
  
Then she recognized the voices in the video.  
  
She quietly got up to lock the door to her dorm room. She made sure her connection was secure.  
  
_No way_ , she thought, skimming through the profile of [Team Voltron]’s YouTube channel and playing several videos, hardly believing what she was seeing. _No way._  
  
She pulled up the Galaxy Garrison student records to check, just in case. Missing in action, they’d said. Training accident, they’d said.  
  
_This can’t be real_ , a part of her brain whispered. _This is a YouTube stream. Are you going to be fooled by some decent special effects?_  
  
_Shut up_ , she told the voice. _I know Katie when I hear her, and that girl is more than capable of making a YouTube stream work in space if she put her big brain to it._  
  
Molly was not a rage kind of girl. When she was little(a.k.a. a year younger), she used to have a huge crush on a broody upperclassman and enjoyed spouting about it to her long-suffering best friends.  
  
In this instance, the broody upperclassman had been Keith Kogane. One of the long-suffering best friends had been called Katie Holt.  
  
Getting furious enough to want to punch a teacher’s lights out was certainly a refreshing new emotion.  
  
She scrolled through her contacts list while she watched her not-dead best friend annihilate dark purple warships in a blinding green streak, shining brighter than the stars scattered all around her in a dizzying spray of lights.  
  
Jamming her phone in between her ear and her left shoulder, she cracked her knuckles over the computer keyboard. She was about to demand a whole lot of dexterity from her fingers. “Beth,” she said when the call was picked up. “I know you’re just across the hallway and all, but this is sort of an emergency. When I send you a chat program, install it.”  
  
Bethany’s message came through the chat several minutes later.  
  
**Beth4president** : why the secrecy?  
  
**moly-poly** : normal comm isnt secure  
  
Then Molly sent her the link to the livestream, as well as several screenshots of [Team Voltron]’s YouTube videos.  
  
Beth’s reply came back after a stretch of radio silence.  
  
**Beth4president** : in room on lockdown. mission objective?  
  
**moly-poly** : garrison aholes r probs gonna try to block or ban the channel  
**moly-poly** : we stop em  
  
**Beth4president** : the Katie Holt Contingency?  
  
**moly-poly** : exactly  
**moly-poly** : im gonna recruit more  
**moly-poly** : u get started  
  
**Beth4president** : copy that.  
  
Leaning back in her chair to stretch, Molly smiled when her second call finally reached the intended recipient. “Hi, Grant. Yep, calling from the girls dorm. Could you do me a favor and barricade yourself in your room? Immediately? I sent you a chat client, install that. I’ll tell you more in a bit. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.” A pause. “You said you knew Shiro, right? Ever wondered whether the pilot error thing was bullshit or not?”

 

* * *

 

“Explain this,” Iverson said stiffly, gripping the back of a chair and staring at the giant screen taking up one entire wall of the central command room.  
  
“It appears to be a live-stream of five giant space lions fighting against a fleet of purple alien ships and some kind of monster the size of an asteroid in deep space, Commander.”  
  
“I can see that,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “I meant, why is this still streaming to the public?”  
  
“We’ve already contacted YouTube,” a technician spoke up. “Shutting down now.”

 

* * *

 

“Oh, no you don’t,” Grant muttered under his breath, fighting the shutdown protocol with a stream of code.  
  
“I can’t believe we’re in the Garrison server,” Sam said through the six-person comm they’d set up, coming up with a command of her own to redirect the flow of electrical signals elsewhere. “What the hell are we doing?”  
  
“Think of it as a graduation prank,” Zack suggested. “With a bit of cadet loyalty thrown in.”  
  
“Speaking of servers,” Brian said. “How’s it coming with the YouTube server?”  
  
“It’s harder than we expected,” Bethany admitted. “But I think we could get through.”  
  
“Fuck it,” Molly snapped. “Let’s go with force. We’re smashing this thing into the ground.”

 

* * *

 

“Cleanup is done!” Hunk declared cheerfully, smashing the last of the fighters into oblivion.  
  
“Alright,” Shiro said. “I think it’s time we showed this guy what Voltron can really do.”  
  
“Aw, yeah!” Lance whooped. “This is my favorite part!”

 

* * *

 

“Oh, son of a—” Alex said to her computer.

 

* * *

 

“They're the power rangers," Kevin muttered in awed realization. "Space power rangers."

 

* * *

 

“What in the name of—“ Iverson began.

 

* * *

 

“Oh my god,” Sam exclaimed. It looked like Keith was now part of a giant robot person thingy that was made up of what had previously been five separate lion ships. “Are you guys seeing this?”  
  
“Less marveling, more coding,” Bethany said over the comms.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I came up with bigdamnmilkshake's chat handle way before season 4 was even teased. 
> 
> Molly and Bethany are OCs from goodnessake's And We're Back Here Again, which was the inspiration for this fic. Molly once waxed poetic for Keith's emo-punk mullet in full romance novel style. Now she organizes secret hacking operations and swears like a sailor. (Only in my little fic, of course.) The Katie Holt Contingency was named after one Katie Holt, who made it her life's mission to break into the Garrison server as many times as she possibly could. 
> 
> Sorry I've been missing for so long! Hopefully I'll be able to return soon with another chapter :)


	3. First Loops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first return from the cusp of death is always the best return from the cusp of death. Team Voltron's First Loop, with additional scenes from our Altean princess and Galran prince as they join the looping action! (Features Team Galra friendship moments and a not-dead Narti!)

** <Team Voltron Loop 1> **

 

One moment, the world was a blinding starburst of searing purple energy and white-hot pain. The next, Lance was sitting in the pilot’s seat of a standard-issue rescue craft simulator, the cockpit's screens lit up to show the frosty white surface of a certain small satellite of Pluto's.  
  
. . . Lance remembered this. He’d run through this memory countless times, twisting and turning in bed, desperate to hold onto every single detail of his beloved home planet. Desperate enough to replay some of the less than pleasant memories.  
  
Even if he hadn’t recognized this "scene" right away, the icy chunk of rock hovering in front of his face would have clued him in immediately. Paladins shared a mindspace, both in and out of Voltron. The unmistakeable, looming presence of a digital-graphics Kerberos on his front monitors—exactly like Shiro remembered it being—sent a shiver down his neck.  
  
His grip on the joysticks stiffened. The others. Were they— Had they—  
  
(Nope. Not thinking about that right now. He should be focusing on his own problems, the biggest of which were a) he was pretty sure he’d died, and b) apparently death worked like a personal memory review.)  
  
He wondered if this was supposed to be the afterlife. If so, he wondered why the afterlife was forcing him to relive his memories of being ridiculed at the Garrison. “Stupid afterlife,” he muttered.  
  
“Lance,” a voice called from behind him.  
  
Oh, right. He wasn’t alone in this memory.  
  
(Nope. Not now. Stop thinking about Pidge, and Hunk, and— Nope. Can't deal with that right now, be sad later.)  
  
Lance craned his neck around. Pidge was staring at him, her knuckles white on the comm panel. Hunk was glancing back and forth between the two of them, eyes as wide as a dinner plate.

Huh. Hunk didn’t look like he was about to throw up. Just nervous.  
  
Weird. This memory . . . was different from what he remembered. Was this part of being dead?  
  
“Lance,” Pidge repeated. Her words were clipped and precise. “I’ve picked up a distress beacon. Take us down.”  
  
“Down—? Oh, yeah, okay.” Guess he was participating in the memory reenactment. He flexed his shaky fingers and pulled the simulator into a descent.  
  
He’d woven fluidly in between enemy fire with Blue. He’d flown faster than a lightning strike in Red. Compared to his lions, the simulator controls felt unnatural and clunky in his hands, a fraud pretending to be something free, airborne. He wrestled with it, coaxing it to behave. But the false ship continued to buck at its reins, and it took him a moment to realize the shaking couldn’t all be because of his abysmal piloting skills. He wasn’t Keith, but he wasn’t this mediocre either. “Hunk?” he called. “If you’re feeling okay, buddy—“  
  
“Yeah, a hydraulic stabilizer’s malfunctioning, I know.” Lance chanced a quick look back and glimpsed Hunk elbow deep in the main gearbox, no sign of being bothered by the rough flight.  
  
Weird. This memory definitely wasn’t being accurate.  
  
“Done,” Hunk said after a few moments. The fake aircraft settled into a smoother glide.  
  
“Attention lunar vessel,” Pidge said into the radios, “this is Galaxy Garrison Rescue Craft One Victor Six Three Tango, coming in for landing and extraction.”  
  
A glacial overhang came into view. Oh, he definitely remembered this one. Lance gave it a token assessment, decided he could take it, and swooped under the arch, making a clean pass.  
  
Easy peasy.  
  
He was afraid of messing up the landing—what if he’d forgotten the complicated landing procedures?—but he pulled it off without a noticeable hitch. When the screens went black with the letters SIMULATION SUCCESS emblazoned on it in gold pixels, Lance felt a sudden burst of something sharp in his chest. As the three of them climbed out of the simulator for evaluations, Lance thought it might be pride.  
  
Their class eyed them like they were strangers. Iverson told them the simulation had been “acceptable,” grimacing like it physically pained him to speak those words in front of Lance. Excluding some trivial technicalities like forgetting to use proper teammate addressments and logging their flight information before descending, no criticisms were given.  
  
People kept giving Lance appraising looks. Lance tried to keep his eyes focused on the far-off third story railing and counted down the seconds for the dismissal.  
  
He had a crazy theory he wanted to confirm.

 

= = = =

 

They ended up on the roof, where they’d once seen a spaceship break atmosphere and crash-land in the desert.  
  
“Do you remember dying?” Pidge asked bluntly, slamming shut the door to the stairs.  
  
“Yep,” Hunk said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Naxzela blew up. The universe hates us.”  
  
“Thank god I’m not the only cuckoo head around here.” Lance collapsed bonelessly onto the concrete rooftop. The relief at knowing he was not alone in this was enough to make him light-headed.

"What the quiznak is going on?" Pidge hissed. "This is crazy! We’re—it _looks_ like we’ve come back in time, but we don’t know what caused it or if what we did is really time travel. This could be another bizarre alternate reality bullshit and I wouldn’t be surprised.”

"Right." Lance rubbed a hand over his face. "Do we have a contingency plan for dying and waking up in the past?"  
  
"Nope," Pidge said. "But I say first priority is checking who made it back with us. That means Keith, and Shiro."  
  
"Sounds good to me," Hunk agreed.

 

= = = =

 

When awareness forced open his eyes to a desert twilight, Keith found himself crouched behind a sandy rock outcropping, his custom red flightcycle parked beside him.

. . . He didn’t understand. Where was he? Wasn’t he supposed to be a bit . . . dead?

(He'd flown himself right at the stupid laser beam, hadn't he? It should have worked. It had to have worked.)

_Why am I back here?_

Then someone hissed, "Keith!"

He turned around and saw Lance, Hunk, and Pidge sliding down the sand dunes toward him.

Suddenly, the idea of having to face the world again seemed a whole lot better. 

 

= = = = 

 

They piled onto Keith’s flightcycle. Pidge clambered onto a passably stable portion of the bike, her arms locked around Shiro’s chest. “How the hell did I not drop him last time?” she muttered under her breath.  
  
Keith mounted the driver’s seat, swinging one leg over the bike saddle like he’d done it a thousand times. Hunk sat at the very back. Lance wedged himself in between Shiro’s unconscious form and Keith’s spine, then grinned at the pilot. “Step on it.”  
  
They shot forward, trailing behind them a spray of sand and a dozen angry Garrison jeeps giving hot pursuit.  
  
“Hunk, lean left!” Keith yelled. Lance could hear the slight shake of exhilaration in his voice, could hear the smile on his mouth.  
  
“Drift, Keith, drift!” Pidge screeched, clutching Shiro close and cackling. They took the next bend at a record angle.  
  
Their excitement infected Lance. He let out a wild whoop, air whooshing past his ears from their breakneck speed.  
  
It was a euphoric experience, getting a second chance at breathing when normally being blown up would be the end of the line. Now that he’d had a taste of death, Lance found he preferred life that much more. The Paladin connection between the four conscious passengers on the flightcycle kept thrumming a deep bass of victorious joy, dulled without their lions but present nevertheless.   
  
When Lance whooped again, Hunk followed suit. Keith laughed, the short burst of breath snatched away in the rushing wind.  
  
“Cliff coming up!” Hunk shouted.  
  
“Do it!” Pidge shrieked, gleeful in her anticipation.  
  
Keith took them right off the cliff’s lip and into a nosedive. Lance screamed, half in stomach-dropping terror and half in drunken recklessness, eyes watering from the fall. Keith pulled up the bike at the last second, gracefully transforming their vertical motion into forward propulsion.  
  
They flew over the desert, gasping to catch their breath and flicking a vindictive finger up at the Garrison’s headlights lined up along the cliff edge.  
  
It felt good not to have the fate of the universe pressing down on their shoulders, if only for a brief moment. 

 

= = = =

 

When Shiro awoke, it was to a shabby plaster ceiling lined with afternoon sunlight.

"I am still not dead," he told the ceiling. "How does this keep happening?"

There was a snort. "You don't know the half of it."

Shiro shot up from the sagging couch he'd been lying on. " _Keith_?"

Pidge's head popped up in the doorway. "Oh, cool, you're up." She opened the front door and yelled, "Lance! Hunk! Shiro's awake!"

Shiro gave Keith a bewildered look. "What is going on?" 

 

* * *

 

 **< Team Voltron Loop 45 (Allura Loop 1)>** 

 

Allura dropped out of the stasis capsule, arms outstretched in surprise. Lance, already in position in front of her pod, caught her before she could hit the ground. “Whoa,” he said, helping her stand. “You okay, random stranger who just dropped into my arms out of nowhere?”  
  
Allura stared at him, her mouth hanging open.  
  
. . . Why wasn't she tackling him to the ground?  
  
Come to think of it, Allura hadn’t call out for her father when the stasis pod opened.   
  
Just as he was beginning to suspect something had gone wrong, Allura spoke. “Lance?” she asked in shaky disbelief.  
  
Lance heard the rest of his team suck in a unanimous breath of shock. He blinked. “What the hey-ho what now.”

 

= = = =

 

Allura, as it turned out, could only remember things from the previous time-loop. They gave her a one-hour crash course in time-looping, and explained they'd been doing this for quite some time.

“So this is . . . normal?” the princess asked. She was twisting at her hair rather vigorously.  
  
Shiro scratched his chin. “ . . . Kind of?”  
  
“We suspect it’s a side effect of long-term high-concentration quintessence exposure,” Pidge piped in. "We haven't figured out any of the mechanics yet, though."

"Are you saying that this happened because I piloted the Blue Lion?" Allura said. 

"Essentially, yes," Hunk told her. "But piloting any other lion would have worked, too. Probably."

"What we're wondering is, why start looping now?" Lance said. "You've piloted Blue plenty of times in the past loops. Why now?"

Keith shrugged. "Guess we'll have to add that to the <Figure Out Later> list."

 

* * *

 

** <Team Voltron Loop 51 (Lotor Loop 0)> **

 

The idiot Paladins needed a distraction.  
  
He could provide more than that.  
  
“Traitor,” growled Zarkon, drawing his immense, jagged sword. “Have you come to die?”  
  
He willed his sword hand not to shake. _You are not my father_ , he thought. _I have put my hands around your throat in my dreams. I have killed your name inside me and burned the child that called for your arms._  
  
“Yes,” the discarded prince told the monstrous emperor. His last words were delivered calmly, evenly. “I have come to die.”

 

* * *

 

**< Team Voltron Loop 52 (Lotor Loop 1)>**

 

They were playing X’litakc (a card game involving lies and swift fingers) when Lotor barged into the room.  
  
“We’re in the middle of a game,” Acxa said, eyes on her cards. “Sit down and wait for the next one if you want to play.”  
  
She heard Lotor suck in a shaky breath. “Narti?”  
  
Acxa looked up. The prince’s eyes were blown wide.  
  
“Yeah, Narti’s here,” Ezor spoke slowly. “Back from her recon mission. Like we knew she’d be.”  
  
Narti waved at him.  
  
“You feelin’ all right, Princeling?” Zethrid asked, rearranging her cards.  
  
“Coordinates,” Lotor said. His voice shook. “Where are we, approximately?”  
  
Acxa frowned. Lotor’s voice never shook. “Quadrant 47 of the Te’loki Sector, same as you saw an hour ago. Are you sick?”  
  
“Date?” he asked, ignoring her question. He was visibly trembling.  
  
Ezor picked up on it too. “Hey, maybe you should go lie down? I’ll, like, see if there’s something hot to drink in the kitchens?”  
  
“Date,” he said in that tone they recognized as the _I won’t move until I win this_ tone.  
  
“Princeling—“ Zethrid growled.  
  
“Year 10037 P.V.*, 22nd Moonrise of the 16th Season,” Acxa supplied.  
  
“You are sure?” he asked.  
  
“I am sure,” Acxa told him.  
  
“Okay.” He ran an unsteady hand through his hair. “Okay. Narti.”  
  
Narti stood up in one smooth motion. She had her hands clasped behind her back, at attention and ready for the prince’s next command.  
  
Lotor hugged her.  
  
Acxa dropped her cards. Zethrid choked on her spit.  
  
Ezor squealed in joy. “Our emotionally-stunted boy has finally learned to display affection! Somebody get a picture-snapper!”  
  
“Shut up,” Lotor grumbled into Narti’s shoulder. “I—missed her, that’s all.” Narti was patting him on the back, clearly rattled but open to this strange new phenomenon.  
  
“She was gone for two Moonrises,” Zethrid scoffed.  
  
“I knew you had it in you!” Ezor jumped up from her seat. “Group hug!”  
  
Lotor jerked back. “No, no group hug—“  
  
Narti prevented him from escaping. They proceeded to engage in a group hug, in which even Zethrid grudgingly participated. Ezor’s laughter was infectious, and Acxa found herself smiling.

 

= = = =

 

Lotor told them the story in short, halting sentences. He didn't give any specifics about the future, and they didn't push. They merely listened—how he'd died in battle a year from now, how he'd woken up in his bunk as if he hadn't breathed his last. 

It sounded like madness. It also sounded exactly mad enough for it to happen to _them_.  
  
“I don’t know precisely how the time travel effect occurred,” he said, “but I suspect it may have had a thing to do with prolonged quintessence exposure. Quintessence is the only form of energy both powerful and unpredictable enough to be an explanation.”

 _How did you get exposed to that much quintessence?_ Acxa wanted to ask.

She chose not to. The prince seemed shaken enough. They could pursue the matter at a different time.   
  
Zethrid huffed. “All right. Let’s assume you’re not cracked in the head. Great, you have future knowledge. What’s our next step, Princeling? Make an early grab for the throne?”  
  
“I’m not going to pursue Zarkon’s throne.” Lotor raised his head from his study of his hands. “We’re making adjustments in our plan. We start by contacting the Castle of Lions.”  
  
“But the Castle of Lions doesn’t exist,” Ezor said. “The Empire searched the universe for over ten thousand years, and there’s no sign of it anywhere.”  
  
“It exists. The Empire just hasn’t found it.”  
  
The implication was heavy.  
  
Acxa voiced what they were all thinking. “Are you suggesting we turn full traitor?”  
  
They’d always balanced precariously on the grey line, but they’d never done anything outwardly rebellious. If they decided to do this, they were committing to it.  
  
Lotor avoided meeting their eyes. “You can start talking me out of it now.”  
  
“You’re serious,” Ezor said with a note of surprise. “You’re willing to—you’re serious?”  
  
_You’re willing to go against your father?_

Lotor didn't answer, biting down on his lip. His fingers twitched.

Zethrid slapped him on the back.

"Ow."

"Zethrid," Narti sign-chided.

"I was getting tired of playing the obedient dog," Zethrid said heartily. "Treason it is!"

"Wait," Lotor protested. "You have to think this through, it isn't that simple—"

"I hope you weren't thinking we'd abandon you," Acxa said. "Because that would be offensive."

"I never liked Zarkon anyway," Ezor assured him, patting his arm.

"Shall I go inform the crew," Narti signed.

Acxa thought she had never seen Lotor look so speechless.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *P.V. = Post Victory
> 
> Sorry the update took so long (and it isn't even Part 2 for Meanwhile on Earth, wow I suck)(but no worries, that one's next in line). I've been working my way through some stuff. At least I've learned my lesson; I must never make deadlines I can't keep! Thanks for all the wonderful comments, they really helped me a lot. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> Made some edits to the loop numbers and tags. There might be a vague form of a plot taking shape in the distance. I'll see how it turns out.


	4. Meanwhile on Earth (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith accidentally streamed a Voltron space battle on YouTube. Humans on Earth react appropriately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter is set in Alternate Universe #25 (again).

<Team Voltron Loop 25>

  
Shiro was the last one in the hangar. By the time he stepped out of his lion's gaping maw, the rest of his team were gathered near Green, waiting for Pidge to run the final comprehensive check-up and make sure nothing was wrong.  
  
“No huge damage on the castle, or the lions,” she said, sitting cross-legged on Green’s giant right paw. “Everything’s functioning as it should. The communication systems and the individual trackers are working well, too. I think we can successfully say that was a good mission . . . .“ She frowned at her holo-screen. “Huh.”  
  
Lance looked up from his fourth game of pat-a-cake with Hunk. “Why ‘huh’? Why did you say ‘huh’? You’re not supposed to say ‘huh’, bad things happen when you say ‘huh’.”  
  
“Nothing bad. Probably.” Her fingers flew across the keyboards. “I’m getting a weird notification that I shouldn't be getting, that’s all. Must be something wrong with the YouTube link-up system I coded yesterday, but I was so sure I worked out all the kinks . . . .“ Pidge stilled. “Keith?” she said, voice unnaturally level.  
  
Shiro instinctively tensed. Lance and Hunk stopped their fifth pat-a-cake game. They knew that tone. Something was very wrong.  
  
“Yeah?” Keith said, pushing himself up from where he’d been leaning against Green’s left paw.  
  
“Give me your helmet.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
Pidge held out a hand. Her smile was forced. “Helmet.”  
  
Keith handed over the helmet without another word.  
  
As soon as it was in her lap, Pidge smashed several buttons along its side in quick succession. She then chucked the helmet at Keith, who fumbled to catch it. “Hey everybody,” she announced, her voice an octave higher than normal, “guess what we just did!”

 

* * *

 

The intergalactic battle stream had flickered unsteadily several times, but through liberal use of pre-coded contingency templates and cyber-tag-teaming antics, the six-person hacker squad managed to keep the broadcast going. They waged a heavy battle, and won.

When the stream blinked out on its own, a collective sigh of relief washed through the comm link.

“Congratulations, everyone,” Molly said, tired and victorious. “We’ve successfully fucked with the Garrison. Let's get cracking on damage control.”

 

* * *

 

“I think Keith here,” Pidge said, “pressed the wrong button on his helmet.”

Keith stiffened.  
  
Lance’s mouth dropped open in what looked like sudden, terrible realization. “No,” he whispered. "No, it can't be."  
  
“Am I the only one who’s confused,” Hunk said. “Because I’m confused.”  
  
“Pidge,” Shiro said. “Elaborate?”  
  
She met his eyes in grim resoluteness. “We just live-streamed the entire battle. On YouTube.”

" . . . Uh," said Shiro.  
  
“We _what_ ,” said Hunk.

 

* * *

 

 **bigdamnmilkshakes** : so  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : that happened  
  
**medusa's_snake** : aliens are real  
**medusa's_snake** : and so are power rangers  
 **medusa's_snake** : we all learned something new today

 **KlanceIsReal** : what should we do with this knowledge

 **emicateXanthic:**  Good question. **  
emicateXanthic** : Commencing Tumblr post composition.  
  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : theyre already trending on twitter  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : #defenders of the universe  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : wait  
**bigdamnmilkshakes** : shit i think they broke twitter

 **medusa's_snake** : i didn't know twitter was breakable  
  
**emicateXanthic** : That's so awesome?

 **bigdamnmilkshakes** : i knOW  
  
**KlanceIsReal** : i’m emailing you the recording of the livestream  
**KlanceIsReal** : keep a copy handy in case youtube does something shitty like take the video down  
  
**medusa's_snake** : ooh smart move

 **KlanceIsReal** : i've watched my share of movies  
**KlanceIsReal** : this kind of stuff, you gotta spread like the wind before it gets buried

 **emicateXanthic** : You've watched too many movies.  
**emicateXanthic** : But that is pretty smart.

 **KlanceIsReal** : thank you  
**KlanceIsReal** : i try

 **medusa's_snake** : well  
**medusa's_snake** : time to go make gifs i guess

 

* * *

 

"We streamed _everything_?" Lance asked, aghast.

"Everything!" Pidge cried. "Visuals, comm links, _everything_!"

"Comm links?" Hunk frowned. "That can't be right. We don't have that function on our helmets."

“We—oh god.“ Lance went pale. “She messed with the helmet so it would have night vision and comm link access, ohmygodwhydidyoudoit—“

“I had to!” Pidge wailed. “I’m a perfectionist!”  
  
“Ohmygodwhydidn’tIstopyou—“  
  
“Everybody calm down,” Shiro said, trying to stay calm. “No one could have known this would happen, we’re not going to point fingers at anyone. And this isn’t as bad as it looks. Sure, our viewers now know we’re the defenders of the universe we claim we are, but that doesn’t mean the end of the world—“  
  
“Except our YouTube channel will probably get terminated by shady government agents?” Hunk asked. "Thus cutting off the only means of communication we have with our respective families with whom we've only recently managed to contact?"  
  
"Oh god," Lance was muttering. "I didn't say goodbye, I didn't get to say goodbye—"  
  
“I’m sorry!” Keith said, high-pitched. “I didn’t know!”  
  
“How could you not know the thing was rolling?” Pidge demanded shrilly.  
  
“I couldn’t tell the difference!”  
  
“A blinking red dot means you're still recording! _How do you not know that?_ ”  
  
Keith threw up his hands. “I’m not very trained in recording videos or, or any kinds of social media in general, okay? I didn’t have much reason to use it back on Earth!”  
  
“That was a little sad.” Hunk opened his arms in a magnanimous gesture. “Come here, you can have a hug for that one.”

"No!" Lance screeched. "Withhold that hug, Hunk, he doesn't deserve your pity hug!"

"You can all have a pity hug," Hunk said.

 

* * *

 

The Emergency Response Team failed to shut down the live-stream. It was apparent someone was running interference, and rather successfully at that. Iverson watched as Galaxy Garrison's so-called best and brightest were thwarted by hackers of undeterminable origins.

By the time the stream ended of its own volition, he was aggressively kneading his temple, willing his growing headache away.

"Sir? What should we do?"

He was not happy about the interference, and part of him wanted the perpetrators hunted down immediately; but Iverson knew his priorities. Investigating some hackers was not as important as assembling global security protocols. "Shut that YouTube channel down, and call a meeting. We need to discuss intergalactic invasion scenarios."

 

* * *

 

“Do you guys realize,” Pidge said that night-cycle, lying atop the pile of blankets strewn about the command deck, “that we've probably achieved worldwide fame on Earth?”  
  
“You're exaggerating,” Keith grumbled, falling down onto his pillow with a soft _poof_.  
  
Lance groaned from his place underneath the blue comforter. “Why would you remind me of that,” he mumbled, curling into a tighter ball. “I was trying so hard to think about anything but that.”

"Isn't worldwide fame what you've always wanted?" Hunk asked, dragging another mattress in from the hallway closet where they kept the command-deck-sleepover essentials.

Keith snorted. "He's sad because his zit got worldwide fame too."

"I don't know when it popped up," Lance muttered. "It came out of nowhere."

They fell into comfortable silence, where for a while the only sound in the command deck was Shiro's muted snoring.

"I'm sorry we lost the channel," Keith said abruptly. "It's my fault you guys couldn't say a proper goodbye to your families."

"Eh." Hunk had his eyes fixed on the star-strewn galaxy outside the huge windows. "Skipping goodbyes isn't anything new, is it? Besides, we're bound to die sooner or later. I think being remembered by a cool space battle is better than sudden radio silence, to be honest."

"Hunk, stop being morbid," Lance mumbled.

"Yeah," Pidge said. "Maybe this is the loop we defeat the Empire and return to Earth alive and whole."

"When did you cultivate all this optimism?" Hunk asked.

"I've always been optimistic. I'm the most optimistic fucker on this ship."

"That is so wrong on so many levels," Keith muttered.

 

* * *

 

Nearly a quarter of Earth’s younger population watched **[Team Voltron]** ’s live-stream that day. They then went on to tell everyone else about it. Social media platforms were accidentally DDOSed. YouTube nearly froze. Twenty-four hours later, even though no news program had peeped a word about the incident, almost everyone with access to the Internet or an acquaintance with access to the Internet knew about the crazy giant cat-lion spaceships and the team that may or may not actually be the defenders of the universe.  
  
**[Team Voltron]** 's stream video and their entire channel were deleted from YouTube. The resulting backlash was a veritable flood of enraged viewers calling for justice. YouTube administration was nearly drowned in asks that demanded to know what criterion of propriety Team Voltron had violated to deserve their channel’s deletion. Those who’d had the foresight to record the whole extravaganza distributed the videos through any platform they could reach, whether it be Tumblr or Facebook or Torrent. No matter how many videos and links were deleted because they “contained inappropriate material," more popped up by the hour.  
  
Conspiracy theorists sprang out of the shadowed nooks and crannies they'd been hiding in, spurred on by the more than ideal conditions for promoting conspiracy theories. They developed thousands of conjectures based on pre-existing  **[Team Voltron]**  videos and the live-stream, dissecting them frame by frame to catch details they’d passed over. Galaxy Garrison saw a drastic spike in the number of applications received. Cadets threw themselves into training with a newfound fury enough to startle the instructors. World leaders began getting together to discuss planetary security measures. People started worrying about their chances of survival should hostile aliens invade. Others vehemently argued that the stream had been a publicity hoax, nothing more.

A week after the Stream of Galactic-Secret-Leaking, the higher-ups decided there was no point in covering up the Incident anymore. Everybody and their dog knew about it. YouTube finally relented to the voice of the mass and reinstated **[Team Voltron]** 's channel. It instantly got seventy-million subscribers, taking the throne as the most popular channel running.

 

* * *

 

Pidge was rewarded with a pleasant but completely unexpected surprise when she checked in on their YouTube account about a week later. She'd gone in with the intention of tying up any loose codes that could be floating around after account deletion. She hadn't been prepared for seventy-million subscribers on a not-deleted channel.

"What?" Lance said, when informed of this discovery. "How?"

"I did some poking around on what pieces of the Internet I can get access to. Our channel—it looks like we were saved by the humans of Earth."

Lance leaned over her shoulder to peek at the monitor. " _Seventy-million subscribers?_ Where did _that_ come from?"

"The people have prevailed," Pidge whispered reverently.

"That's amazing," Lance breathed in awe.

"We gotta tell the others," Pidge said.

The two of them went and told the others.

"So are we like, officially the Power Rangers now?" Hunk asked.

"We need to have a party," Lance declared. "Today. A party to commemorate our worldwide fame."

"We're not the Power Rangers," Keith said.

"If the party includes milkshakes," Shiro said, "I'm in."

"We are totally the Power Rangers," Pidge said.

 

* * *

 

Team Voltron didn’t upload new content for a month. When they did, it was with their third **[Ask the Team]** video.

Shiro opened with a brand-new introductory spiel. “This is Team Voltron. We would first like to state that we can neither confirm nor deny any accusations made in terms of the military characteristics or objectives this team may or may not have. We would also like the viewers to keep in mind that these videos are created mainly for the purpose of viewer entertainment and may carry the possibility of being entirely false. Galactic warfare can't possibly real, so there's no need for undue panic. That said, to the Garrison officials listening in: don't worry too much, we'll warn you when it looks like you're going to be invaded.” He smiled. “Now. Let’s get to the questions!”

 

* * *

 

Shiro glanced down at the piece of paper in his metal hand. “Question number five, from **moly-poly**.”  
  
Pidge’s head snapped up. “Wait, did you say—“  
  
“ _”Katie you complete asshole I cannot believe you went on a super secret outer space mission with Keith Kogane and did not think to give me a call. I thought you kicked the fucking bucket, you little shit!”_ ” Shiro grinned. “Friend of yours, Pidge?”  
  
Pidge’s ears were red. “I—she’s—oh come on, I’ve been on YouTube for months now, it’s not my fault she missed my [I’m Alive] vid. I’m sorry, okay?”  
  
“Hey, how come your friend mentions the name of our emo child, but doesn’t mention me?” Lance asked. “Surely my fame exceeds Mullet-head’s.”  
  
“Lance,” Keith said, “I will murder you.”  
  
“You’ve said that before. Yet here I am.”  
  
As Keith lunged for Lance and Lance retaliated by shoving one long leg against Keith’s ribs, Hunk took the question paper from Shiro, not even bothering to acknowledge the near-silent wrestling contest taking place next to him. “Moving on. **Amendment413** asked, _”I saw the official records floating around the Internet. Aren’t you guys supposed to be dead?”_ ”  
  
Hunk nodded sagely at the camera. “That’s a great question. Very logical, considering the circumstances. Unfortunately, there is no straight answer we can give you. We might be actors pretending to be dead people to draw more attention. We might be zombies with great skin whose dying regret was never being YouTube stars. We might be five incredibly unlucky people who got saddled with a crazy big responsibility one day and decided to just roll with it. Who knows? The possibilities are endless. Just pick your favorite.”

(Most of Earth’s population decided they liked the last option.)

 

* * *

 

When Samuel Holt returned in a sleek alien pod carrying dire messages of approaching danger (and private messages for certain families), Earth was ready.

This was the twenty-fifth loop that Team Voltron failed to survive. This was also the first loop where Earth survived the Galra Empire's onslaught, and the first where the Empire fell in the face of a very incensed Coalition. 

Humans can be scary, both in protection and in vengeance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Pidge first succeeded coding herself into YouTube, the Team had an intense discussion about stuff they could and couldn't say on videos. They decided "saviors of the universe" would be their aesthetic, so space castle backgrounds and casual sparring was okay, but they couldn't say anything incriminating that would make people think 'hey are they telling the truth about being millions of lightyears away from earth?' They needed enough views to have their families find their channel, but needed to keep enough plausible deniability so shady government agencies would think they were just another attention-seeking YouTube channel.
> 
> Then Keith went and did the Stream. Stuff proceeded to happen.
> 
> (Thanks for all the kudos, comments, and bookmarks! Hope you enjoyed reading this half-baked continuation scribble.)


End file.
